


the wish

by ailurea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Birthday, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23055136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailurea/pseuds/ailurea
Summary: In a land where your (reasonable) birthday wish can magically come true, Shiro (reasonably) wishes to find a way to express to Keith how much Keith's come to mean to him over the years.That being said, confessing the romantic side of his feelings wasn't part of the plan, so ending up spelled to not be able to lie to Keith... was not exactly the outcome he was hoping for.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 91
Kudos: 443
Collections: Shiro Birthday Exchange 2020





	the wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sagely_sea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagely_sea/gifts).



> for sagely_sea! i went with your prompt of a fantasy au, where something magical happens on someone's birthday. it was so much fun to write in more of a magical setting, and i hope you enjoy it! ♥

“Your hair’s still white,” Keith says the moment Shiro steps out of the temple.

Shiro rolls his eyes and pushes him, hard enough that Keith sways but not hard enough that he staggers. “You can’t seriously think I’d spend my birthday wish asking for my hair to be black again,” he says as he starts off down the main road.

“I mean,” Keith says, falling into step beside him with a completely unapologetic smile on his face, “you’re the one complaining all the time about how it makes people say you look old.”

“I’m complaining about the people, not the hair,” Shiro says. The hair was unexpected, and took a while to get used to, but not more so than the arm—and restoring an arm is far beyond the amount of magic a birthday blessing is capable of.

Still, Shiro will take all of it over being dead.

Keith hums and shoves his hands in his pockets. “So, you gonna tell me what it is?”

Shiro hums back. “Nope.”

“Do you even know what it is?” Keith says, which is a fair question. The Goddess works in mysterious ways, and if you’re vague or uncertain about what exactly it is that you’re wishing for, it may not turn out like you’d expect.

And Shiro’s wish this year… well, it was definitely vague.

_I wish I could express to Keith how much he means to me._

It’s a wish that’s more desperation than anything else. He has all these _feelings_ about Keith built up in his heart, gratefulness and pride and affection and warmth, and he hasn’t been able to find a gesture that’s capable of expressing it all, save ringing the bell in the middle of the village square and announcing it loudly enough for everyone to hear.

(Somehow, he doesn’t think Keith would really appreciate that one.)

He has yet to be hit with a spark of insight, so maybe the Goddess doesn’t have a clue, either.

“I’m not sure what it is yet,” he says, “or if there’s even anything. I might’ve wished for too much.”

“You?” Keith says. “C’mon, Shiro. If anything, you probably wished for too little.”

“You think too highly of me,” Shiro says.

“I’ve known you for—” Keith breaks off and scrunches his brows, “—stars, has it really been nine years now?”

Shiro counts himself. “Eight years and two seasons. Now you’re going to make me feel old.”

Keith snorts. “Look, the point is, I’ve known you long enough to know you exactly as you are. You probably wished for our babies to grow, or something.”

Shiro laughs. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.” 

It’s a short walk from the temple to the spellshop that he and Keith own. The building is small and unassuming, wedged between a grocer and a tailor with a plain sign that proclaims _Magical Wares_.

The bell on the door chimes lightly as Shiro unlocks it and steps in. The warmth of his and Keith’s magic washes over him, as it does every morning. It lingers everywhere in the shop, from the protective energy of the wards they’ve spelled, to the residue on the potions and candles and tokens they’ve crafted shoulder-to-shoulder in the workroom in the back. It’s gentle and comforting, and always, always feels like coming home.

Shiro’s cottage is where he sleeps. Their spellshop is where he lives.

Shiro flips the sign on the door to _Open_ as Keith makes a beeline to the plants sitting by the window. “So how are the babies?”

There's a handful of Lion’s Heart saplings they've been tending to for almost a year now, and one of them finally started flowering last week.

“Same as yesterday,” Keith says, but he doesn't sound disappointed about it. “Guess you didn’t wish for that after all. But I think the waterberries are doing better. Guess Slav’s advice worked.”

“No,” Shiro says. “This is a house of science. We don’t say that name here.”

“Slav is literally one of the few scientists in this village,” Keith says, and he’s not laughing but it’s a near thing.

“There is no science that says we should only water the waterberries while wearing pink socks.”

“You can’t argue with results,” Keith says, gesturing to the waterberries that, admittedly, do look more alive than they did a week ago. “Didn't you say you were pretty sure they weren't going to flower this year?”

“Yes,” Shiro says, then clamps his mouth shut. He hadn't meant to confess that so easily. “Are you saying you've been watering them with pink socks on for months?”

“I do what it takes to support our children,” Keith says, with enough gravitas that Shiro can't tell if he's being messed with or not. “Are you wearing pink socks?”

“No,” Shiro says. “I don’t even own pink socks.”

Keith waves him off. “Go check on the potions, then, I'm gonna water them again.”

Shiro squints suspiciously at Keith’s boots. They’re his usual pair, black and high up to his calves, and between them and his dark pants, it’s impossible to catch any glimpse of his socks.

“Shiro.” Keith rolls his eyes and shoos him toward the back room.

“I’m going, I’m going!” Shiro says, leaving Keith to his devices.

The back room is home to many of their other projects. They have a number of long-brewing potions for Colleen going right now. The cold weather combined with the ever-increasing pollen count are leading to a variety of colds and allergies, and Colleen’s paid them well to make sure she has a stock of potions prepared for her patients at the apothecary. They’re in some of the last stages now, and Shiro doesn’t have to do much but check to make sure they’re on track.

The items on the shelves at their spellshop are more of the non-medical variety; for protection, or strength, or calm. Items spelled to enhance… _togetherness_ … are particularly common in the weeks following the Celebration of Hearts.

Shiro is very glad that they’re mostly done making those. He’s not sure how much longer he could’ve handled Keith talking about _sexual performance_ and _erotic energy_ with a flat voice and a straight face.

So much for being the mature one.

He does his rounds, and afterward he goes out into the small yard in the back to collect the batches they’d left to cleanse overnight in the moonlight. It’s a bit early for customers, and he doesn’t hear any activity from the front of the shop, so he stays in the back to bottle and shelve them before heading back to help Keith in the front.

But when he goes out, Keith isn’t alone.

Hunk’s there, bent over a small cake sitting on the counter, white and red with summerberries. Next to him, Keith is carefully inserting a memoryblossom into an arrangement of flowers. They both jerk up as Shiro steps into the front of the shop.

“Whoops,” Hunk says as he drops too many sprinkles onto the cake. “Uh, surprise?”

Keith scowls. “How are you done bottling already?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Shiro says. “I was just bottling normally? I could go back?”

Keith sighs and steps back a little from the counter. “Ah, it’s fine. It’s not much, anyway. I just wanted to do something, so… Happy birthday, Shiro.”

“I love it,” Shiro says, rounding the counter to put his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Thank you. This is really sweet of you. And thank you, Hunk.”

“My pleasure, bud.” Hunk grins and hands him a fork. “Nothing like birthday cake for breakfast, am I right?”

Shiro should have eaten actual breakfast before setting out that morning—pure sugar doesn’t usually sit well with him as a first meal—but he isn’t going to complain, and he takes a small bite under their watchful eyes.

“How is it?” Keith says, a hint of nerves in his tone—maybe he picked the flavor?

“A little too sweet,” Shiro says, and instantly wants to hit himself because _why did he say that?_

Sweets are almost always a little too sweet, which is why he always just grins and bears it and doesn’t eat too much. Why would he say this now, when it’s clear that Keith put a lot of thought into it, when it’s clear that Hunk baked it especially for him?

“Oh, sorry about that,” Hunk says, folding in on himself in a way that makes Shiro feel even more like a massive asshole. “I did half sugar for you, but maybe it wasn’t enough.”

“No, no, it’s fine, really,” Shiro says in a rush. “I don’t know why I said that, maybe it’s just because it’s the first thing I ate this morning so it feels sweeter than usual? It’s delicious, as always. Thank you, Hunk.”

Hunk frowns at him. “Are you sure it’s not too sweet? Because it’s—”

“I’m sure,” Shiro says firmly. “I really appreciate you making this for me, and I love it. Really.”

“All right,” Hunk says slowly. “If you’re sure.”

“I am extra extra sure,” Shiro says, and shoves another piece of cake in his mouth to prove it.

Hunk seems a little more accepting at that, and after a few more praises and some enchanted sugar for his trouble, Shiro sends him on his way.

Keith gives him an evaluating look once they’re alone again. “Are you really sure it’s not too sweet?”

“No,” Shiro says immediately, and immediately he cringes again. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean that. I really do think it’s good.”

“So it’s not too sweet?” Keith presses.

“It is a little too sweet,” Shiro says, and this time he hears his teeth clack with how hard he clamps his mouth shut.

“You’re really giving me mixed signals here,” Keith says.

“I’m really not trying to,” Shiro says helplessly. There might actually be something wrong with him, because this strange involuntary blurting is getting out of hand. “I really do think it’s good, and I appreciate you and Hunk for taking the time to put it together. Thank you so much, Keith. Really. It was a nice surprise.”

“Okay,” Keith says. “I’m glad.” He looks down at the counter, where the cake is sitting, and takes the fork from Shiro. He picks a small piece off the corner and puts it into his mouth. “I guess it is a bit sweet. Sorry. I always thought you had more of a sweet tooth than me.”

“Only for fruit,” Shiro says, picking off a summerberry from the top.

“Oh, that’s right,” Keith says. “You’re an absolute summerberry fiend, I forgot.”

Shiro laughs. “I’m a what, now?”

“My first year of Academy,” Keith says. “The great summerberry heist, where some unnamed individual made off with Iverson’s handpicked stash of summerberries and got us poor sprouts extra rounds of drills because he was in a bad mood all week.”

“You’ve blamed me for this before,” Shiro says. “And I say again, where’s the evidence?”

“There were summerberry stains on your collar,” Keith says, “and you didn’t have an alibi. It’s been five years, Shiro, it’s time to fess up. Did you do it or not?”

“I did it,” Shiro says, and now he knows there’s seriously something wrong with him. He’s been denying this for the better part of five years; he shouldn’t be cracking in front of Keith’s incredibly weak interrogation.

Keith looks just as stunned. “Wha—Are you messing with me right now? Did you really do it?”

“I’m not messing, I did it,” Shiro says. He clamps his hand over his mouth.

Keith frowns at that. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

It’s a whole-body experience now; Shiro’s arm moves without him telling it to, freeing his mouth to say, “I don’t know, I—I feel like I have to answer your questions and I can’t—”

He tries to stop talking, but it just results in a strange, strangled struggle in the back of his throat. The words are there, eager to come out, and there’s nothing he can do to stop them.

So it’s with a terrifying sense of inevitability that he says, “I can’t lie.”

* * *

“In my defense,” Shiro says, once Keith’s herded him onto the sofa in the back room and shoved a warm mug of tea into his hand, “Iverson didn’t label the container of summerberries. How was I supposed to know they were his?”

“I think we have bigger problems right now,” Keith says, sitting on the floor in front of the sofa and wrapping his arms around his knees. “So you can’t lie… at all?”

Shiro thinks back on everything that’s happened this morning. “I think just in response to questions. So I could tell you now, I’m seven feet tall.”

“But if I ask...” Keith says. “How tall are you?”

“Six foot four,” Shiro says.

Keith hums, and his eyebrows have a little furrow in them, like he’s still putting the pieces together. “This just started today?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Shiro says. “But it’s not like I make a habit of lying to people.”

“To me,” Keith says. At Shiro’s expression, he says, “If it’s questions, then it’s just me. Hunk asked you if you thought it was too sweet, and you said no. It was only when I asked you that… all of this happened.”

“I don’t make a habit of lying to you, either.”

“I know,” Keith says. “But people lie all the time. Just little stuff, like the summerberry thing. Can you think of anything at all from yesterday?”

Shiro thinks back. Yesterday was fairly busy at the shop, and he spent most of his time handling customers while Keith managed the stock. They actually hadn’t spoken much until evening, when the rush died down—not out of the ordinary for them. Then they’d walked home, and—

Oh.

They’d run into Lance outside the florist’s, and for some reason or another things led to Lance teasing Keith about a crush, and then turning his sights on Shiro, and then Keith attempting to save him by saying, _You don’t have a crush on anyone, right, Shiro?_

And Shiro looked into Keith’s glittering eyes and choked out, _No, I don’t._

“Okay, you’re right,” Shiro says. “I lied to you yesterday.”

Keith nods. “So it started today, then. It has to be something to do with your wish.”

“You don’t want to know what I lied about?” Shiro says.

“If you want to tell me, you can,” Keith says, tilting his head, “but I’m not really worried about it. Unless you were lying about being happy to come with me to meet up with my mom. I told you you didn’t have to.”

“It’s not about that,” Shiro says. “You know I love your mom.”

“Aw, she loves you too,” Keith says. “But seriously. Did you—uh. Hm. I wonder if your wish requires honesty in some way,” he says, carefully. “Remember last year, when Lance wanted a juniberry flower for Allura?”

“Yeah,” Shiro says. Juniberry flowers are Allura’s favorite. They used to be abundant, but now they only grow deep in the forest, beyond monsters and rivers and hills, where few dare venture. “What he really wanted was Allura’s favor, so he was gifted the strength to get the flower himself.”

“And then he lost the super strength as soon as he returned with it,” Keith says. “I wonder if it’s something like that, where the effect will wear off after… whatever it is that you want to be able to do.”

_I wish I could express to Keith how much he means to me._

If it’s like Lance’s situation, if the Goddess is looking past what he says he wants to what he actually wants—what is it that he actually wants?

He just wants to be able to relay to Keith just how much he cares. How much he matters. How lost Shiro would be, if he hadn’t had Keith beside him all these years. How much—

How much he loves him.

Fucking stars, the Goddess is trying to get him to confess.

“What did—ugh,” Keith cuts himself off, face twisted in frustration, and tries again. “Just now, it looked like you thought of something.”

“I did,” Shiro says.

But it’s not something he wants to say.

There’s a reason he framed his wish the way he did. He knows his own heart, and he knows Keith’s, too. They’re best friends, blood brothers, and their bond is strong but he knows the nature of it. It isn’t what he dreams it to be, but it’s already more than enough. There’s no need to ask for more.

He doesn’t want to ask for more.

“You know you can tell me anything,” Keith says, quiet and careful as he puts his hand on Shiro’s knee.

“I know,” Shiro says.

Silence settles over them for a breath, two, three.

Then Keith sighs and sits back. “Well. I guess it can’t be that hard to learn not to ask questions. I was pretty good at that growing up.”

“Keith!” Keith was like that, when they’d first met; not asking questions, staying out of the way. Shiro had worked hard to break through that shell. He doesn’t want him to go back in there, not because of this.

“Sorry,” Keith says, but it’s not very apologetic.

“You can ask me questions,” Shiro says firmly. “And it’s not like I’m always lying to you.”

“You’re clearly lying about something important, if things ended up like this,” Keith says. “I don’t even understand how, if it’s because of your wish. Are you—hnrgh. Maybe it makes sense if you feel guilty about something. If you need to confess to get it off your chest.”

“I don’t feel guilty,” Shiro says. Though he supposes he does have to confess something. “And I’m not lying to you. It’s… there are some things that I haven’t told you.”

“You don't have to tell me,” Keith says. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I—” Okay, it kind of is that he doesn’t want to. Shiro sighs and leans back against the cushions. “It’s complicated.”

“I’ve noticed,” Keith says, a wry note to his voice.

“You can ask me questions,” Shiro says again, and, after a moment, adds, “You can ask whatever you want.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “About anything?”

Shiro’s surprised to find he’s only a little nervous when he says, “About anything. Despite what it looks like right now, there’s really not much I keep from you.”

“I didn’t think there was,” Keith says. “I… I know there’s things you don’t like talking about. Like Haggar. Sendak.”

He’s watching Shiro carefully, and Shiro works to keep his face neutral. It’s true; Keith knows the basics of what went on during his missing year, but Shiro’s always spared him the details. Shiro always tries to spare himself the details.

“I just want to know, now that I know you can’t lie to me.” Keith takes a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

Shiro laughs, and feels, inexplicably, the prickling of tears. Of course this would be Keith’s question. Of course.

“I’m okay, Keith,” he says, reaching out for him. “I’m okay.”

* * *

They reopen the spellshop.

Shiro is very glad that his wish-spell is only affected by Keith. He’s not trying actively trying to lie to anyone, but now that he’s paying attention, he’s surprised by how often things like _of course, Lance, that hat looks great on you_ slip out of his mouth.

Maybe he should aspire to be more like Keith, who took one look at Lance and said, “It looks like a unicorn took a shit on your head.”

By mid-afternoon, the shop is quiet. At the counter, Keith is making Lightroot candles, to ease heartbreak—another popular purchase in the month after the Celebration of Hearts. Shiro has his loom on the side and is weaving lighter blankets now that the weather is beginning to warm, spelling them with the comforts of a gentle hug.

Keith has one wrapped around his shoulders, black, white, and red, and additionally spelled to resist falling off, since Keith likes to walk around with it. It was one of the first Shiro made this year; he made one for Keith last year, too, which Keith apparently keeps around his cottage.

They work in silence until the sun begins to dip, and Keith puts a hand on Shiro’s shoulder to awaken him from his weaving daze. “Do you still want to come to my place for dinner?”

Shiro blinks until he regains his senses and the tingling of magic leaves his fingertips. “Ah, yeah. Let me just—”

“I already took care of everything in the back,” Keith says. His lips quirk in a smile. “Can’t make the birthday boy work too hard.”

Shiro laughs. “Now you’re just spoiling me.”

“Eh,” Keith says. “You deserve it.”

But after they’ve closed up shop and headed back down the road toward his and Keith’s cottages, Keith says, “I feel kind of bad, though. The cake wasn’t that great, and we just worked all day. And your wish was… well, you know. Feels like your birthday wasn’t very special, in the end.”

“The night is young,” Shiro says, elbowing him. “And don’t sell yourself short. Every day with you is special.”

Keith smiles a little. “Really?” Then his smile falls. “Wait, shit, don’t—”

“Really,” Shiro cuts in. “It’s okay, Keith. I did say any question.”

Keith bites his lip. “Yeah, but…”

“What is it?”

“I know you said you don’t really lie to me,” Keith says, “but I also know there’s stuff you say to make me feel good, and I don’t want to make you… I don’t know, feel bad about making me feel bad.”

This feels confusing. “Wait, backtrack. You think I lie to you to make you feel good?”

“I think you lie to everyone to make them feel good,” Keith says. “Not in a bad way, just. You know, like Lance with the hat. Don’t try to tell me you actually thought that looked good on him.”

“It didn’t look bad,” Shiro says. But yes, there are probably better hats out there. “What do you think I lie to you about?”

Keith shrugs, and he looks a little helpless. “I don’t know. A little of everything?” He glances at Shiro, then away again. “Like my magic.”

“What’s there to lie about your magic?” Shiro says. “You’re one of the most skilled witches I know.”

“Do you really think that?” Keith says.

“I do.”

Keith looks surprised by that, and Shiro can’t help the pang of heartache that causes him. He stops walking, and takes hold of Keith’s shoulder.

“Keith, I have never been anything but honest to you about what I think about you and your abilities,” Shiro says. “Yes, you’re an extremely skilled witch, and powerful, but also you’ve achieved what you have because you’re hard-working, kind, and you’ve learned the hard way what it means to never give up. And I am and always have been so, so proud of you.”

“I—” Keith’s mouth works, and his hands are still where they hang by his sides. “Always?”

“Always,” Shiro says, and as Keith crashes into him, he’s suddenly glad the wish-spell is there to give Keith confidence in Shiro’s answers. Maybe he was wrong about the confession, and this is what the Goddess intended all along: for Keith to know, without a doubt, that Shiro’s words for him are true.

That they’ve always been true.

“You mean so much to me,” Shiro says quietly, and even he’s not sure if he intends for Keith to hear or not. “More than you know.”

“I love you so much,” Keith says, the words muffled in Shiro’s jacket, right above where his heart has stopped beating. Keith turns his head up and takes a step back. “I—stars, sorry, this isn’t a good time to talk about that.”

“Hey.” Shiro squeezes Keith’s shoulder and tries to ignore the fluttering of his own chest. It’s just nerves. Keith didn’t mean it like that. “It’s okay. I love you too. You already know that.”

“I do,” Keith says, then more firmly, “I do. I just meant—forget it, we should talk about it after you… after.”

“After I can lie again?” Shiro says, and then, when Keith doesn’t answer, “Why would you want me to?”

“Because I know you’d want to,” Keith says, “and it’s not fair for me to ask when you can’t.”

Suddenly, more than anything, Shiro wants to know what Keith has to say.

“I told you you could ask me anything,” he says.

“Not this,” Keith says.

Shiro slides his hand from Keith’s shoulder to his hand. He clasps their fingers together and squeezes, gently, then brings the knuckles to his lips in a gesture that can’t be mistaken for anything else. “Ask.”

With trembling hands and trembling breath, Keith says, “Do you love me, Shiro?”

“I do.”

“Platonically?”

“Yes,” Shiro says, “if that’s what you want from me.”

“And if I want something else?”

“I guess it depends on what you want.”

Keith huffs a laugh and steps closer, until they’re back chest-to-chest again. “Shiro.”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Shiro’s breath hitches. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> **[after-credits]**
> 
> Keith: I guess it's only fair if you can ask me a question now. Whatever you want, I'll answer honestly.
> 
> Shiro: Keith... are you really wearing pink socks?
> 
> * * *
> 
> thank you to everyone who's supported me in writing this, especially to linnea for the idea of the birthday wish coming true, and [allie](https://ao3.org/users/artenon) and [faia](https://ao3.org/users/FaiaSakura) for betaing, and allie for the after-credits idea!
> 
> and thank you so much for reading! ♥  
> i love, appreciate, and reply to all comments, even if it takes me a little while to get to them :)
> 
> catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ailurea)!


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